


Scaredy Cat

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Ideas, Bathrooms, College Student Stiles, Derek Has a Crush, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Derek's Loft, First Kiss, Future Fic, M/M, Matchmaker Lydia, McCall Pack, Scared Derek, Spin the Bottle, evolved!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: This was a bad idea.
Derek watched as the bottle started to slow, circling around until it landed on… shit.
Bad idea.  Baaaaad idea.
“Ready, sourwolf?” Stiles asked, clapping his hands together like this wasn’t a bad idea.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt-based challenge on LJ for gameofcards based on cat-inspired idioms. The one I chose was "scaredy cat".

This was a bad idea.

Derek watched as the bottle started to slow, circling around until it landed on… shit.

Bad idea. Baaaaad idea.

“Ready, sourwolf?” Stiles asked, clapping his hands together like this wasn’t a _bad idea_.

Derek ducked his head and swallowed hard, disguising his panic by rising to his feet. He could easily keep his heart rate under control, he was a born wolf. As soon as Scott got even slightly upset Derek could sense it but the rest of the pack weren’t likely to ever know Derek was freaking out due to his heartbeat.

Maybe if they could they’d realize this was the holy pinnacle of bad ideas.

Spin the bottle was Lydia’s idea, suggested with a cooly bored flip of her hair while she casually eyed Parrish out of her periphery. He didn’t notice, of course, but Derek did and sighed as he rummaged under his sink for an empty wine bottle. It wasn’t his idea of a good time but he sat down in the circle anyway, feeling the pull of _pack_ and the scent of comfortable familiarity.

Then Stiles sat down across from him in the circle and dammit, it was too late for Derek to back out, feigning an urgent phone call to Cora or that they needed more junk food. Derek had a front row seat to watch Stiles laugh raucously, gesture wildly with his absurdly attractive hands, and wrap his lips around the mouth of a beer bottle, wondering what it would be like to chase the taste with his own tongue.

Looks like he’d find out.

Derek always felt a connection with Stiles, whether it was homicidal rage or a hidden respect. The kid got under his skin because he was the polar opposite of what Derek was but his loyalty earned Derek’s trust and he’d never lost it. Stiles was the first person to welcome him back when he returned to Beacon Hills after finding his full shift. Derek wasn’t sure there would be a place for him in Beacon Hills at all, let alone in the McCall pack, but it was easier than he ever dreamed it could be.

Three years later the pack was strong enough to beat back whatever new threat encroached on their territory and Derek was part of that defence. He could feel the strength in their united front and felt pride that he had a hand, even in the smallest way, in them coming together. He was Scott’s second in name only. Stiles definitely fit the bill better and often acted as the voice of the pack, though. Because of their official and unofficial titles Derek and Stiles often worked closely together.

And all that led to this being a _bad idea_.

“Derek?” 

His head snapped up and he saw the pack staring at him, Lydia most attentively. He cleared his throat and jerked his head awkwardly. 

“Yeah, let’s do this,” he mumbled and stepped up to Stiles who was shaking his arms and cracking his neck, like a boxer before a match.

“Remember, six seconds,” Lydia reminded them and Derek glared at her without heat. She smiled back primly and leaned back against Malia’s shoulder to watch.

“Ready?” Stiles asked with a half grin.

Derek didn’t reply, just stood in front of Stiles stiffly with his hands at his sides. Stiles rolled his eyes and reached out to rest his hands on Derek’s shoulders—when did Stiles get to be just a hair taller than him?—and leaned in. 

Before their lips met Stiles stopped and looked Derek in the eyes. “Never pegged you for a scaredy cat.”

Someone snorted behind them, sounded like Liam, and Derek wanted to snarl at them in full beta shift, but Stiles’ eyes were slipping closed like this was a _real thing_ and Derek could. Not. Deal.

A low growl might’ve escaped him but he ignored it and grabbed one of Stiles’ hands off his shoulder and tugged him along toward the bathroom, where the only door between them and the rest of the pack stood. 

“Six seconds!” Lydia called out while Stiles sputtered next to him.

“Don’t think that’ll be an issue,” Mason laughed.

“Oh!” Malia said suddenly. “Is _that_ why—“

Derek didn’t get a chance to hear the rest because he shut the door firmly and turned the cheap door lock that was little more than a novelty amongst a group of werewolves.

“Derek?” 

“I didn’t want to do this with them watching,” he said, avoiding Stiles’ eyes. Stiles leaned up against the sink and put his hands in his pockets easily.

“Because it’s with me or…?”

“Yes,” Derek replied and immediately wanted to groan. “I mean, no. Not that way.” He looked up at Stiles and was met with a confused expression. 

“What way is ‘that way’?” Stiles asked slowly.

“Goddammit, Stiles! Like _this_!” Derek stepped into Stiles’ space, pinning him against the sink, and cupped his face and then kissed him. Stiles grabbed Derek by the elbows and for an instant Derek was worried he was going to shove him back but Stiles opened his mouth and moaned. 

Stiles’s hands found their way around Derek’s neck and his fingers were threading through Derek’s hair, nails barely scratching at the nape and Derek felt tingles shoot down his back and he broke out in goosebumps. As if he could sense it Stiles grinned against Derek’s mouth and let his tongue lazily play along Derek’s lips. 

Derek wasn’t sure how much time passed before someone knocked on the door. He pulled back from Stiles and felt immense pride at how debauched Stiles looked with his lips red and swollen, hair more messy than usual, and his shirts rucked up where Derek ran his hands across his skin. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror and let out a bark of laughter because he looked much the same.

“As happy that I am that you two finally figured this out I can’t whip it out and pee on the side of a building,” Lydia called from outside the door. 

“Dare you to tell her to take it to the gas station on the corner,” Stiles whispered, lips tickling the shell of Derek’s ear. 

Derek considered it for a second then shook his head. “Turns out I am a scaredy cat about some things.”

The sound of Lydia indignantly tapping her foot was drowned out by Stiles’ delighted laughter.


End file.
